The Watcher
by Luami
Summary: One way the worlds could have ended and been replaced. The last remnant of a dead universe speaks.


I own no part of this story.

I watch.

I watch as day gives way to night and to day again, as years pass by and then millenia. I watch as mountains turn to dust and seas to sand. I watch as, over and over, what was destroyed is remembered forever.

In the beginning, there were many worlds, full of many peoples and many magics. I remember it fondly, but with the memory of joy, I cannot escape the memory of fear, of rage, and finally grief. I cannot escape the day I died.

It began at midnight. At near the same second, in all worlds, those born with magic's power awoke. Some, the luckiest, died then. Others collapsed in a terrible pain. Only a few remained capable of moving at all, while a piece of our souls was being slowly ripped away.

We had no knowledge of what could happening, so we did what every good little wizard does and flocked to the Headmaster's tower. There, we found the Headmaster himself and learned the reason for our pain - Malistaire had come for his revenge. We had thought, hoped, that his last defeat was his last battle, that for once the crazed man would just stay down. It was not to be.

Most of what comes next is surmise, as we had no time for details. It is difficult to be concerned for how and why when the what is tearing you apart. But there was time aplenty for thought after the fall, and this is what I believe.

In his self-imposed exile, Malistaire came upon many creatures unknown to most, being too dark and twisted to stand the light. Among these was one feared for its ability to cast minor spells, fuelled by the innate magic and lifeforce absorbed from its prey. Malistaire saw this beast as a challenge and an inspiration. He modified his own body to mimic many characteristics of the monster, including its magic absorbing powers. For a time, he used it much as the original had, gaining magic along with sustenance from his food. Rather gruesomely, some of the rumors may have indicated, in retrospect, that Malistaire actually fed on foolish adventurers too weak to fight back, but much stronger than simple animals.

Then, despite having grown much stronger as a result of this depravity, Malistaire knew that he could not challenge Wizard City directly. Instead, he turned his newfound power inward once more, and after some experimenting found a way to extend his range with his illgotten abilities. No longer having to consume to absorb, he could draw mana from others with only a focusing of his will. Overcome with a mad glee, the thing that once was a great wizard drew from all he could reach, and as his power grew exponentially, so did the distance he covered. Within minutes, the taint reached the heart of the universe - the Tree.

I don't know if what happened then was intentional, if he really hated us so much that he would destroy the world to destroy those he had betrayed. Perhaps his self-mutilations had so diminished his intelligence that he really didn't see it coming. Perhaps what little of him remained human was so disgusted by what he had made of himself that he had no care for his own life, and less for that of others. Perhaps he was so consumed by his voracious hunger that he couldn't have stopped then if he tried.

The World Tree died.

As its roots and branches withered and disappeared, so did the worlds it had anchored, crumbling in upon themselves until there was nothing left but dust.

It was as this was happening that the strongest of us still alive and capable gathered for one last try, our only hope of survival. Ironically, even as the magic was sucked from me, I fell deeper into Magic than I had ever gone before. For a moment, we were all one with the world.

But it could not last. One by one, we died. And then, I was the only one left.

I stood alone.

And my World died.

For a long time, I was alone in the void. I had nothing left. I do not know how I survived, and what does it matter? I was much reduced from what I had been, and frankly wished I had not even that, that I could have died with my home. But I had not, and I had to assume there was a reason for my survival, a purpose for me to fulfill. I could not think what it was, however, and soon fell once more into the depths of my grief. I was not entirely sane, by then. In many ways, I never will be again.

To my horror, I eventually found myself failing to recall some of the details of the world I had lost. I immediately began to think of a memorial, a way to remember what I once knew as well as my own heart even after my mind failed. In the end, there was only one thing I could do. I gathered up what I could of my meager power and shaped it into the seed of a new world. Drained, powerless, I could do nothing more after that but watch.

And to my joy, my reckless gamble worked! The seed grew, and gave birth to a new people. While they were not the same, they were enough alike that I knew my people would not be forgotten. There was just one crucial difference.

There is no Tree, no other worlds to share in harmony. There are no Schools of Magic.

There is no magic.

But then, maybe that's for the best.

And maybe someday...

I watch.


End file.
